The Edge of the Sea
by theatrehopeful11
Summary: A child is born...a child is lost. Chapter 19 has been edited so it fits in the story better!
1. Default Chapter

**April 25th, 1925**

"Congratulations, you have a beautiful daughter," Challenger said to the new parents. Veronica took the newborn over to a basin of water and began to clean off the mess from the birth, holding the baby in a blanket with one hand and sponging her off with the other.

"Can I see her?" Marguerite asked, exhaustion beginning to overcome her tired body.

"You certainly can," Veronica said once she was done. The little girl with silvery green eyes was wrapped in a white blanket. "Here she is. She's just beautiful, Marguerite." She laid the baby in it's mothers arms.

The beautiful heiress looked down at her first born child and love beamed from her eyes. She would never have guessed that she could feel so much love for one person. "John?" Her husband stepped to her side and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Yes, my darling?"

"Look what our love has created." John smiled at Marguerite's words. Two years ago she never would have admitted that there was even love between them. But a year later she was saying her vows in front of all her friends at the Treehouse. Yes, life had been kind to them on the Plateau.

"She's as beautiful as her mother," the hunter said leaning down to kiss his wife on the forehead. Pride filled his every movement, and when he smiled at his friends they could see how utterly happy he was. "Now, what are we going to name her?"

"Do you have any suggestions?" Marguerite asked him.

"I think her name should start with an M…and maybe we can use my mother's name for her middle name. How about Margaret?"

"No, that's too close to Marguerite, I don't want her named after me. What about Morgan?"

"I think that's perfect. Morgan Elizabeth Roxton…what do you think of that little angel?" Roxton asked looking down at his daughter. She cooed, and he took that as an affirmation.

Lady Roxton smiled, "Morgan Elizabeth Roxton it is then. Would you like to hold your daughter?"

"Very much so," John said, gently taking the baby from her arms. "She's so tiny." He looked down at the little human in his arms and was overjoyed that she was finally here. "She looks so much like you, she has your eyes."

"I think she has your constitution, did you hear her crying when she entered the world. Kicking and screaming like her father."

"Not unlike her mother as well, my dear. Would you like her back for a little while before I make you rest?" Marguerite nodded and John laid Morgan back in her arms.

"Oh, my little Morgan…you are the luckiest little girl in the world. You have so many people who love you. Your father and I do, and so does Aunt Veronica, Aunt Finn, Uncle Ned and Grandpa George…and I'm sure your Grandma Roxton would love you so much if she knew you. We all love you so much, Morgan…"


	2. A Day Gets Better

**Disclaimer: ** I don't own any of the Lost World characters. They belong to someone else. I do however; own the characters that I created.

**April 29th, 1937**

"You WORTHLESS orphan! Get out of my house! I don't want you!" The woman yelled as she threw the girl out. The orphan landed on the ground. "Go back to the orphanage where you belong!" The door slammed in her face.

Morgan stood up and brushed off her dress. In spite of being thrown out, she did not shed a tear. Years of unkind hearts and faces had taught her that tears were for the weak. Instead, she started to walk back to the only home she could remember, the North London Orphanage.

Morgan had never really belonged anywhere. She had spent every day and night on an old cot on the drafty third floor of the orphanage. She didn't know who her parents were, only that they had died or something, and she wasn't even sure of that. When she was younger she had hoped that her dashing father would come in and save her from the brutal Headmistress and that her mother would take her in her arms and calm her weary little heart. But that never happened, so Morgan came to the resolution that it never would. She would always be lonely. The other orphans treated Morgan like she had a disease and she was always left out. So while the other children played together in the mud hole that consisted of their play area, Morgan sat on the outside looking in. For years, she had spent play time watching the privileged children go by. They had mothers and fathers who would take them to Church. Morgan hated church just because she was one of the orphans…one of the forgotten children, as the people of London called them. They sat in the back set of pews and all the families would go by and the children would sneer at them. The priest, who gave the services in Latin, even looked down at the orphans. His patrons were of a higher status and it was an imposition to have orphans taking up pew space that could just as easily be filled by wealthy churchgoers. But to deny the word of God to the orphans was not becoming of a priest, so he despised them in private. During services, Morgan was surprised that she could understand every word the priest said. She had asked another girl if she could understand what was going on and all she got was a snotty 'no' in response.

Morgan looked down at the ground as she walked, drowning in her memories. "Serves me right, getting my hopes up. I guess I'm not meant to be part of a family," she said aloud.

"Excuse me?" A voice interrupted her thoughts. Morgan looked up. "Who are you talking to my dear?"

"Oh, excuse me sir, did I disturb you? I apologize sir…"

"It's alright, my dear. I saw what happened back there, can I give you a lift?"

"Well, I suppose. I don't want to inconvenience you though," she said, looking him over. He was richly dressed with gold pocket watch chain hanging from his jacket pocket.

"Not an inconvenience at all. It would be my pleasure to take a lovely young lady home." Morgan blushed at this comment. She knew she was anything but lovely. Her dress was stained with dirt. "Now, where is home?"

"The North London Orphanage."

"Alright, we'll be off then. Oh, for a proper introduction, I am Lord John Roxton."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Morgan."

"No last name?"

"I don't know what it is. I'm an orphan after all."

"Right, I'm sorry. So, what happened back at that house? It seems strange to see someone, especially a young lady come sailing out the door."

Morgan looked up at him with her silvery green eyes, and for a moment he met her gaze before she broke it. His face was so kind, as though he was looking at one of his own children. Lord Roxton however, got a chill when he saw the girls' eyes. " Well, to be perfectly honest, it's because I wouldn't let her spank me for something I didn't do. One of her little brats spilled the peas she had just shelled and she thought that I did it. When she came for me I got defensive and then she threw me out for back talking her. I've been beaten before and I wasn't about to let someone hit me for something I didn't do."

"Well I'm glad you stood up for yourself," Roxton said smiling at her.

"But the headmistress will be just furious with me. This is the third home I've been sent away from. It's getting rather discouraging. Most families want babies. Who wants a twelve year old girl? I suppose I should have given up a long time ago."

"You sound a lot like my wife did thirteen years ago." Morgan smiled at Lord Roxton. " You know, perhaps you could come visit my family oneday. My wife would love to have another female around."

"I would like that very much, sir." For the rest of the car ride, the two didn't say much more to eachother. Lord Roxton was still baffled at how much the girl looked like Marguerite, yet how confident she was even though her life had probably been anything but comfortable.

John stopped the car at the orphanage gates and let the girl out. "Well, thank you for keeping an old man company. And who knows, maybe we'll see each other again soon."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Roxton," Morgan said as she stepped inside the gates and shut it behind her. The day had definitely been much better than it started out, and that for once, brought a real smile to the orphan's face.


	3. Leather Wounds

The crack of a leather belt echoed in the small room, followed by whimpering. "That was a good home!" A woman's voice screeched. "I convinced her that you were a good child, not the little devil you really are!" The woman brought the belt down again, leaving another welt on Morgan's arms.

"I should have turned you out the day that foreign man brought you here! You're worthless. God help anyone who ever sees anything in you." The belt hit her five more times before the Headmistress left the room, locking the door behind her.

Morgan sat up once the coast was clear. She had to assess the damage done by the repeated blows with the buckle end of the leather belt. Her arms were cut up and bleeding, dark bruises already beginning to form. Her legs had two huge deep gashes on them. Those would definitely need stitches, which she knew she wouldn't get. The worst of the gashes were on her torso. One especially was bleeding badly. Morgan reached down to put pressure on it, while she ripped her ship to make a bandage. She took the strip of cloth and shoved it into the wound. Pain washed over her as she fought losing consciousness. No, Morgan would not let anyone see her pain, nor would she give into it. Once the dressing was stuffed in, she tore another strip and tied it around her middle. That would help to stop the bleeding. Morgan attended to her other injuries with the same deftness.

Once finishes, she eased herself up onto the dirty cot. Her chambers for the night were more like a small prison cell. She could hear water dripping over in a corner, though she could not see very well. The room had one small light bulb that hung from the center, much like the jails she read about in novels. The walls and floor were a gray concrete that made her feel as though she was in the recesses of hell, far away from heaven. The dankness of the room and the complete solitude finally allowed Morgan to unleash some of her pent up emotions. Tears flowed down her cheeks, though she made not a sound. Why was she such an awful girl? What made her think she was ever worth more than the dirt on the ground? Who would ever want such a devilish child?

She lay down on the bed, wishing for the angels to come and take her away…but they never came for her. They didn't want her either. Life was hopeless for Miss Morgan Nobody. She didn't even have a name…was Morgan her real name? Who were her parents? Had they really died or had they left her because she was such an awful baby? At night, she'd dream of a family that really loved her, and who wanted her. The dreams were peculiar though. When she'd go to look at her mother, all she could see was a smile, and of her father, all she heard was a hearty laugh. It was as if even Morpheus didn't want her to know her family.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as she finally let the trauma and stress of the beating take over her body, leading her back into the dreams of a mother's smile and a father's laugh, just as Morpheus intended.


	4. Calling

Early the next day (well, not too early since Lord Roxton knew his lovely wife hated the early morning hours), John and Marguerite dressed their two sons and went into town.

Marguerite first wanted to stop by her jewelry shop to check on sales before they proceeded to the orphanage. The jewelry store was the home of the Lost World diamonds and other beautiful precious stones. Marguerite had added over one million pounds to the Roxton family fortune since it's opening three years earlier, and had also made enough to purchase a summer home in the south of France, in a little town called Martigues which was about fifty miles from Marseilles. The Zanga people she had befriended during her time on the Plateau harvested the diamonds that were sold in her shop. They were then sent to London where they were cut and set.

After picking up a dozen sales receipts, the family proceeded to the North London Orphanage. The building was an old decrepit farmhouse that had been bricked over with a fenced-in side yard that looked more like a pigpen than a play area. This sight made Marguerite shudder. She was at least lucky enough to be at formal schools when she was young, rather than spending any time in a place such as the North London Orphanage.

John looked over at Marguerite and the way she was looking at the building expressed her feelings in a way words couldn't describe. He went to her side and offered his arm. Marguerite slid her arm under his and led Jude with her other hand as John led John William in.

The inside of the orphanage was cleaner than the outside of the building, but it was anything but comfortable. The walls were a dark brown color, intensifying the gloom and drab that already hung over the place. "I'll find the Headmistress, darling," John said as he gave her little John's hand. Marguerite nodded and pulled her sons to her side.

"Mummy, I don't like this place," Little John said as he hugged her tighter.

"Nor do I, angel. But we're here to take one of the orphans out for the day."

"What's an orphan?" Jude asked, looking up at his mother with his big blue eyes.

"An orphan is someone who doesn't have a mummy or a daddy."

"That's said, mummy," Jude said, burying his face in her skirt.

"It's very sad, Jude." Marguerite ran her hands through Jude's hair. "Be thankful that you'll never know sadness like this."

"Marguerite," John said as he entered the room behind a tall gray haired woman. "This is Headmistress Jenkins. This is my wife, Lady Roxton and our two sons, John and Jude."

"Pleased to meet you, Lady Roxton," the Headmistress said curtly.

"How do you do, Miss Jenkins."

"Your husband told us you were here to see one of our girls?"

"Yes," John said. "The girl's name is Morgan. I dropped her off here yesterday."

"Are you interested in adopting her?" The inquisitive woman asked.

"Perhaps," Marguerite interjected," but we'd like her to spend the day with us so we can see how she gets along with our boys."

"Well then I'll go get her. The only dress we have for her is rather old fashioned, is that alright?"

"What you have will do," John said. The Headmistress nodded and headed up the stairs. The Roxton family waited in the foyer.

The door to Morgan's temporary prison cell opened as dress was thrown into her face. "Get up!" The harsh voice of the Headmistress said. "There are people here who want to take you out for the day." Morgan got up quietly, not saying a word. She knew that speaking often got her into trouble. "Now, I don't want you telling them about your punishment. You are perfectly healthy. And if they come back with you and you have told them, you'll receive far worse than you did yesterday. Now get dressed. I'll see you down in the foyer." Without another word, the door slammed shut.

Morgan changed quickly, her heart pounding in her chest. Someone had actually come to see her…no one ever came for her. She took off her bloody clothes and changed the bandages she had on before putting on the _new_ dress the Headmistress had given her. It had to be at least twenty years old, but at least it was clean.

Quickly Morgan braided her raven hair and used a thin piece of cloth to tie the end of it. As satisfied as she could be with her looks, Morgan took a deep breath and exited her room. Someone was actually waiting to see her. A smile graced her face as she descended the stairs.

"Ah, here she comes," Headmistress Jenkins said as Morgan reached the bottom of the staircase. Morgan looked up at the smiling face of Lord Roxton. "Lord and Lady Roxton, this is Morgan." Morgan dropped a small curtsey to the noble couple.

"Good to see you again," Roxton said to her.

"Yes, I'm glad to see you as well, and pleased to meet you Lady Roxton. You are very beautiful."

"My husband told me all about you yesterday when he came home and we just wanted to see you again. Would you like to spend today with us?"

"I would be honored to," Morgan said with a huge smile.

"We'll take that as a yes, then," John said as he went over to the girl. "We'll have her back sometime this evening."

"That's just fine! Have a wonderful day, and have fun Morgan. Be a good girl!" The Headmistress yelled after them.

Morgan breathed a sigh of relief as the car door shut. She had never been happier to be out of the orphanage. She looked at Lady Roxton and her two sons. They both looked more like their father than their mother, except the youngest had a mop of brown curls like his mother. Lady Roxton was more beautiful than any woman Morgan had ever seen. She had the most elegant dress on for a day in London and she had just enough makeup on to accentuate her stunning features. Morgan knew exactly why Lord Roxton loved his wife so much.

"So, Morgan," Lady Roxton said, "when did you come to the orphanage?"

"I don't know. The Headmistress said a foreign man brought me here. He said my parents…," Morgan didn't continue because she didn't know. "The only place I have any memories of is this orphanage."

"So you have no recollection of your family at all?"

Morgan shook her head, "I have no family."

"No one shows interest in adopting you? You seem to be a smart girl with a quick wit."

"Much like yourself, Marguerite," John said as a smile grew across his face.

"No one wants to adopt a twelve year old. Most couples want a baby." Jude shifted in his seat and in the process accidentally kicked Morgan's leg. She jumped, the five year olds foot had hit one of the deeper cuts that was concealed by her unfashionably long dress. Fighting back tears and pain, Morgan reached down to check the bandage. She brought her hand up and it was bloody.

"Are you alright, my dear?" Marguerite said with a concerned look on her face after seeing the blood.

"Do you have any bandages?"

"Morgan, a small cut shouldn't bleed that much. Let me see." Warily, Morgan lifted her leg, which revealed the bloody cloth. Roxton took the dressing off and gasped. "What happened?"


	5. Healing Begins

"It's nothing," Morgan said quickly, trying to pull her leg from John's grasp. "I just cut myself on my bed, is all." She had become quite good at lying to people since she had had to do it her entire life. Her mind thought back to the day the owner of her first home came to pick her up. The man was tall and had chiseled facial features. He was the butler; she was to be kitchen help. He thoroughly questioned her on the car ride through the countryside.

"What happened to your parents?"

"My mother became very ill and my father contracted the disease while treating her. He was a doctor in the Orient before he came back to England. I was only an infant when I was brought to the orphanage, not even old enough to remember who they were. The Headmistress told me about them." Finally, her mind came back to reality.

"Morgan…Morgan," Roxton said, she looked at him. "This is deep, it needs stitches. Why didn't you tell anyone?"

"It's fine. It would have healed eventually. Besides, I don't have any hope of stitches. I've needed them before and haven't gotten them."

"Did you tell your Headmistress?" Marguerite asked the defensive child.

"Yes, when I was young and foolish I did. But she always said there was no money. We don't have enough money for a doctor to examine all of us once a year. I learned to dress wounds myself. It isn't hard. I read it in a book that was lying around. This one must be worse than the others since it bled through…drats, I wasn't supposed to say anything." She lowered her head. Now they would begin to ask questions and Morgan knew she wouldn't be able to lie to these people. There was something about them that was so familiar.

"Others? Morgan, you don't get wounds like these from your bed unless it's full of nails. Where are the others?" John was now determined to get to the bottom of this issue.

"On my legs and my torso. A couple need stitches, but I have them bound rather tight so they shouldn't be bleeding anymore."

"We'll take you to the hospital…" Marguerite started.

"Oh no! Please don't! If Headmistress finds out it will only be worse for me. Isn't there someplace else you could take me?"

"Your Headmistress beat you?" Now John was infuriated. That two-faced woman! Acting all proper and genteel, when in all actuality she was beating the children she was charged to protect. Why would anyone lay a hand on an innocent child?

"Yes, for getting thrown out yesterday. She beat me with the buckle end of the belt." As fear emanated out of Morgan's being, John boiled with anger and resentment. He had never heard anything so horrid. He had been whipped as a child, but never with the buckle. He could hardly envision what her little body looked like after such a beating, or after multiple beatings. Marguerite interrupted his thoughts.

"We could take her to Challenger. He is good at fixing up things like this."

"Alright, but he doesn't have any local anesthetics or anything, so you'll have to be brave, Morgan."

"That was never a problem for me, Lord Roxton."

"We'll have you spend the night with us. I don't want you going back to the orphanage so soon," Marguerite said.

"Whatever you wish is fine with me. Thank you for helping me," Morgan said. She had never been more grateful for kindness in her entire life. "No one has ever treated me like I was human. I had given up hope that there were nice people in the world. Too bad nice people don't run orphanages." Morgan closed her eyes, fighting the pain, still not trusting the Roxtons enough to let them see her cry.


	6. Backstory

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Lost World characters. I only own the plotline and Morgan and any other characters I invent. Just thought I'd remind you all, though I'm sure you've figured it out by this time!

Reviews: Thanks so much for all your encouraging reviews! Sorry I didn't get this chapter up last night like I promised but I was so tired. Anyways, here's the next Chapter for you all!

Chapter 6 

After they arrived at Challengers, it took 100 stitches to patch Morgan up. The beating had left open wounds that even Morgan had not been able to see all over her back. Some had started to become infected. But after the long and drawn out process of cleaning and caring for her wounds, she had fallen asleep on the couch. Little John and Jude sat on their father and mother while the adults chatted.

"I can't believe anyone would beat a child."

"It happens all the time, John," Challenger said, as though it was science. "And it happens more than anyone would like to admit. Besides, it's easy for someone to do when the child has no one."

"That still doesn't make it fight," John said defensively. "She never could have deserved that." John shook his head. He felt awful, and for some reason he felt guilty, even though he knew it wasn't any fault of his own.

"You know, the girl reminds me of you, Marguerite. She has the same hair, the same eyes. Quite a remarkable resemblance if I may say so. She's a very beautiful child. And she shares the same name as your daughter." Challenger stopped there. He didn't want to tread any farther into dangerous territory.

The subject of Morgan Elizabeth Roxton was one of many unresolved and unexplored areas of conversation. Roxton and Marguerite tried to avoid speaking about what had happened on the boat ride back to England. None of their fellow explorers even dared to ask.

For years after the incident, John and Marguerite had dreamed of their daughter and what she would look like as she grew. She had just turned two when they found the way off the Plateau. Marguerite and John had taken turns carrying her through the jungle. She had only fussed once during the four-day trip, content being with her parents. At night, she slept peacefully on the ground between them. John loved her curly hair. He would always run his hand over it, brushing it out of her pretty face. She looked so much like his Marguerite, the same grayish green eyes and the same nose. The only traces of her paternity lie in her smile. She had his smile. Marguerite loved to play with Morgan and adored making her smile. It was the number one priority of her day.

When they finally reached the Amazon River, a barge picked them up Manaus Brazil and took them up the Amazon where a ship picked them up for the return home to England. It was on the ship ride across the ocean that they lost Morgan. No one even heard the splash when she fell overboard. John and Marguerite had tucked their little angel into bed and had returned to their room for some precious private time. Four hours later when Marguerite went to make sure Morgan was sleeping peacefully, she wasn't anywhere to be found. The only trace of the girl was a bootie near one of the ship's railings.

They had tried to get over it, but losing a daughter isn't just something you shrug off. For John and Marguerite the sparkle and joy of each day had fizzled out. It wasn't until John William Roxton was born two years later that they began to heal. But their lost daughter was never far from their minds, and was never out of their hearts.

"John…John," Marguerite said. John jumped.

"What?"

"You were lost in your thoughts."

"Yeah, I suppose."

"Challenger said we could take her home."

"She's not going back to that orphanage, Marguerite. I won't stand for it."

"I know darling I meant we could take her to the Estate. I'm sure Challenger and Jessie would like to get some rest."

"Of course. Sorry I snapped at you." John stood up and went to where Morgan lay. Gently, without rousing her, he scooped her up into his arms. "Do you need help with the boys?"

"No, I've got them." Marguerite positioned Jude so she could carry him then stood up. He had fallen asleep in her lap. John William held his mother's skirt as she made her way out to the car. John followed behind with Morgan.

Once all the children were in the car, John sat in between his sons while Marguerite made sure Morgan was comfortable. Twenty minutes into the trip home, Little John was also asleep. "Marguerite," John said softly, reaching his hand to his wife. Marguerite took his in hers, grateful for the strength that emanated from him. "Thank you for helping her," John said to his wife. "She just reminds me of what our Morgan would have looked like."

"I know. She's a sweet girl. And you don't have to thank me. I know what it's like to be in her position."

"If only there was something more I could do for her."

"Maybe there is, John, maybe there is."


	7. Offense and Linguistics

**Chapter Seven**

The car pulled up to the Roxton Estate and the driver opened the door for Marguerite, who carried Jude and pulled a sleepy Little John behind her. John carefully picked up Morgan again, but this time she stirred. "Where are we?"

"You're at my home in Avebury for the night. I don't want you going back to the orphanage tonight."

"I'm so sore," Morgan said, putting her arm over his shoulder.

"You had a lot of cuts my dear. Many more than you let on."

"I didn't want to worry anyone…not that I thought someone would care anyways."

"Well, my wife and I care very much. You shouldn't let someone hit you."

"I never let her hit me! Heavens, I've tried to prevent it, but when she locks you in a room with no where to run you really don't have a choice." Morgan's face turned hard, she was angry that Lord Roxton assumed she had just let herself be beaten. That was far from the truth.

"Morgan, I wasn't meaning to imply that you let the Headmistress beat you." Morgan didn't reply. John sighed and carried her into the house. This little girl was full of fire, and fortunately he knew how to deal with that and he knew his wife was an expert with fire. "Marguerite is going to give you a night gown to wear. Tomorrow we'll go into town and get you a proper dress. Can't have you running around in your skivvies now can we?"

"No, sir. And I'm sorry that I back talked you. I just don't like it when people assume things that aren't true. People have made assumptions about me my entire life."

"Well, I won't assume anything about you then."

"Thank you, sir." Morgan dropped some of her shield she had just thrown up. "I'll probably go to another orphanage in London when you drop me off tomorrow. I don't have any material things so it's not hard for me to leave."

"What one?"

"I don't care, just as long as it's better than the one I've been living at. Maybe then I'll find someone who wants a daughter who's mature." John didn't say anything. He really did not want Morgan to go back to the orphanage, but he knew that bringing this girl into this family was ultimately a decision he would make with his wife.

Marguerite put her sons to bed and went to one of the guest's rooms to ready it for Morgan. She grabbed one of her nightgowns and put it on the bed and then turned down the covers. Jessie Challenger had already given Morgan a sponge bath, so the girl who had been rather grimy was clean. John carried Morgan in. "I'll get her changed, John. Would you go make sure the boys are tucked in? Jude was asking for you."

"Yes dear, I will." He set Morgan down on the bed and went out of the room. Marguerite took off the girl's dirty clothes and put the fresh nightgown over her head.

"This is beautiful Lady Roxton. Are you sure you don't mind me wearing it?"

"Well you can't sleep in those clothes, Morgan. They're too restricting. Now, lay down for me."

"Yes, ma'am." Morgan laid down on the pillows. They were the softest she had ever felt in her entire life. "Your home is lovely, Lady Roxton. A palace…"

"Thank you. Are you comfortable?"

"Very much so. I've never been in a bed like this. Mostly I just sleep on a cot or the floor. I'm afraid this may spoil any other orphanage I go to."

"Hopefully you never have to go back to one."

"Hopefully, but I probably will. It would be my luck that I miss the family that's supposed to adopt me. But in six years I'll be 18 and I can make my own way in the world."

"It's hard, Morgan."

"I know it is, but it's better than the alternative, isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose. I was in your position once, I lived alone on the streets for along time."

"Really? And now you are a Lady in a wonderful home and you have a happy family. I only hope one day I am so lucky."

"I think you will be, Morgan. You are a smart girl. How many languages do you speak?"

"A better question would be how many languages can I understand. I don't usually get to speak to the people I hear talking, but I can understand French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Latin."

"Fascinating," Marguerite said, the gears in her mind turning. "Don't you think it's odd that you have this ability?"

"Kind of. I mean, no one else I know has it."

"You do know someone who has it, Morgan. I can understand languages too."


	8. Dashes and Heartbreak

**Chapter Eight**

"You can understand languages too, Lady Roxton?"

"Yes, Morgan. I've been able to do it all my life."

"Isn't it odd that we both possess the same ability. It's almost as if we're magical." Morgan settled down and laid her head back on the pillows. "But enough about languages. Would you mind awfully telling me a story?" She saw the hesitation in Marguerite's eyes. "Oh, if you don't want to I understand. I'll just go to sleep then. Thank you for making me comfortable. I hope you sleep well." Morgan turned over, wanting to cry but holding back the tears. It wasn't like Lady Roxton was her mother. How could she expect someone she hardly knew to read her a story like a mother would to her child?

Marguerite was about to say 'yes' to the girl when Morgan turned over. Had she not hesitated Morgan wouldn't feel out of place. "I'll stay till you fall asleep, and then John and I will check on you." Marguerite sat in the chair quietly, her mind wandering. How had the girl gotten this ability? Marguerite's thoughts didn't even touch on the fact that Morgan could be her long lost daughter. She was too wrapped up in family heritage. Maybe Morgan was one of her cousins and the ability to decipher any language was a gift that her family possessed.

Once Morgan was asleep, Marguerite got up to leave, only to notice that John was standing at the door. "How are the boys?"

"Fine, how is Morgan?"

"Sleeping. She told me something John…she told me she has my ability for languages. She can understand languages she's never heard before."

"Really? I'm surprised she was so open with you. She got upset at me."

"John, you mustn't get so attached to the girl. She'll be leaving for another orphanage in a few days."

"I don't think I want her to leave. Couldn't we adopt her?"

"John, you hardly have time for your sons. What makes you think another mouth to feed will keep you home?"

"I come home to you everyday and I spend time with Jude and John. You three are my world. Couldn't we share that?"

"I don't know, John. Something isn't right about her. I can tell."

Morgan lay awake in bed, pretending to sleep. Her heart was breaking. Lord Roxton had given her hopes of a family and now they were gone. She wiped one stray tear from her cheek and resumed her position. Once again her hopes had gotten the best of her and they had been dashed as had happened before.

"She's perfect for us. She could pass as one of our children. She could be our Morgan."

"No, John she can't! Our Morgan died ten years ago. This little girl has lived in an orphanage her entire life and knows nothing of her real parents. I will not allow you to replace our Morgan!" Marguerite turned to leave, but John caught her arm.

"I grieve for our daughter too, Marguerite. I'm not trying to replace Morgan. I just wanted to give someone else the chance our daughter would have had. Maybe she could fill the void in our hearts."

"I don't want her to, John." Marguerite left, and John turned with a sigh and followed his wife. He hadn't meant to upset her and now he had to comfort her. John looked at the little figure in the bed with a soft smile, hoping in his heart of hearts that he could get Marguerite to agree to adopt her. Then he left.

Morgan waited till she heard the door down the hall close before making her get away. She was still incredibly sore, but the bed had given her the best rest she had had in her entire young life. Standing up, she put on her tattered dress and brushed it off the best she could. She wished she had a coat. Avebury was a long way from London and the walk back to any orphanage would be long. It would probably take her days, but it would take less time if she hurried.

With one last glance at the luxury of her temporary surroundings, Morgan went down the stairs and into the foyer. She hadn't really seen the entryway. It was beautiful with ornate wood detailing. Taking it all in as quickly as possible, Morgan silently opened the front door and left the Roxton home, hoping that no one would come looking for her and hoping for the day that she turned 18 and was on her own.


	9. Fallen Away

**Chapter Nine**

The night was cold and balmy and the thin dress and undergarments that Morgan was wearing were doing no good against the elements. Her body was covered in goose flesh as she made her way down the Roxton's long country drive. At the rate she was going she figured that it would take her three days on foot to get to London. Once she got close to a main road she hoped she could catch a ride. The last thing she wanted was to be brought back to the Roxton Estate…she didn't want to be anywhere where she wasn't wanted.

Morgan made her way down the road, sharp stones cutting her feet. She hadn't been able to find her shoes in the dark and now she was paying for it. She'd have to make bandages for her feet in the morning. She reached the end of the drive and started down the road. Morgan decided to walk a few miles more before finding shelter for the night. She'd start out early the next day.

She thought back on what she had just heard. Lord Roxton had been trying to convince his wife to adopt Morgan and she had said no…a tear rolled down her cheek. She had fooled her heart again into thinking that someone had wanted her, had wanted to adopt her. "Stupid girl!" She said aloud. "To think someone would want little worthless you…don't you ever think again that anyone would ever love you?" Once she reached three miles away from the Roxton house, she sat down under some large pine trees and leaned against the tree trunk. Ten minutes later she was asleep.

The next morning John Roxton awoke. His wife lay beside him, a picture of serenity. She always looked at peace when she slept now, much different from their Plateau days. Roxton knew how much Marguerite hated the Plateau at first, and there were times now he wished he were still there. Maybe if they hadn't come back to England then Morgan wouldn't be gone.

John got up slowly, not wanting to wake Marguerite up. She could use a few more hours of sleep since she took care of the boys all day. He wanted to see if Morgan was up and feeling better. A place in his heart felt better when he thought about her. What Marguerite said last night wasn't true, he knew that Morgan was filling a part of her heart as well, he just had to make her see that. He left his room and tiptoed down the hall to an open door.

"Morgan?" He went into the room… "Morgan? Are you here?" He looked around. Her dress was gone and the bed looked as though she had left in a hurry. He was befuddled, why did she go…she was hurt badly.

Frantically he started to search all the rooms. Had she left the house…or was she still here, maybe she had gone outside. He ran to the terrace and looked out over the grounds: no sign of Morgan. After thoroughly searching his home from top to bottom he realized she had left. She must have heard the conversation he and Marguerite had had.

If he could have kicked himself, he would have. How stupid of them to have had that conversation in her room. The last thing an orphan wants to hear is someone saying that they aren't wanted. He had unknowingly broken her heart. Morgan probably had felt used…they had cared for her and were just being nice to a poor orphan. He knew that's what had happened…he had kicked her while she was down.

John Roxton wasn't about to let her get away without first explaining himself. He had to find her, because he did want her. He had wanted to adopt her, he wanted a daughter, and more important there was something that drew him to her. He couldn't put his finger on why he was drawn to her, but he knew that she needed to be a part of a family as much as he wished her to be a part of his. If only he could make Marguerite see that. He would have to explain his feelings to her, and turn a phrase that she often used. "Nothing is a coincidence."


	10. Horrid Places

**Chapter Ten**

It took Morgan a week to make it to the South Side of London to the new orphanage. She approached the building and it looked no different than the previous rat hole she had lived in. She sighed and approached the gate. Suddenly, a voice from across the way yelled, "Scientist Challenger Looking For Group To Return To The Lost World!" It was newsboy. Morgan's heart jumped…the Lost World. It was perfect. She could go with Challenger to the Lost World.

Morgan turned away from the orphanage gates with a huge smile on her face. She had finally gotten a break. Now she just had to convince George Challenger that she was worth taking on this trip.

The Roxton household had received their morning paper with a whoop and a holler by Lord John Roxton. The news that Challenger was mounting a return expedition after more than ten years excited him beyond words.

"John, why are you yelling like a savage?" Marguerite asked lightheartedly as she helped Jude with his spoon.

"Challenger is mounting a return expedition to the Plateau!"

"Oh," she said very unenthusiastically.

"You don't sound very excited. We could take the boys to see Ned and Veronica. I know you miss them."

"Of course I miss them, John. They're our dearest friends, but I don't want to go back to that horrid place."

"It's not horrid, it brought us together."

"It also killed our daughter."

"That's not true, we were well off the Plateau before Morgan fell overboard. We were in the middle of the Atlantic. So that is not the reason why you don't want to go back."

"I just don't want to, John. Our life is here with our sons, not back there."

"Marguerite…" he started.

"No, John. I'm not going back there." His face fell. He loved the Plateau despite all the troubles they had been through during their seven years there. He missed Ned and Veronica, and he wanted to see his godchildren, all four of them. Ned had written him after each of them had been born. Little Arthur was born around the same time as John, and a year later came Abigail. Two years after that came Edward Layton, or Layton for short, and then there was Maggie Malone, named after her Aunt Marguerite. Veronica had sent them pictures but he had wanted to see them and meet them in person.

John didn't want to get angry with his wife, but he knew that they all needed a change. London wasn't what it used to be before the Plateau. London wasn't home anymore: the Plateau was home. "Yes, you are going back, Marguerite. We're all going home."


	11. Planning Deception

**Chapter Eleven**

John didn't give Marguerite another word in the matter as he began readying his family for the expedition. He had called Challenger that night to tell them that his family would be joining them. George Challenger was extremely happy, not only were his friends coming, but his wife, Jessie had decided to come as well. Finally she would get to see the wondrous Lost World, and she would get to meet their "grandchildren."

Marguerite was furious with John. She did not want to leave London and she especially did not want her two sons introduced to the savage landscape that had their father enraptured. She had tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn't listen. She even threatened him, saying that she would leave him, but he knew she wouldn't leave him ever. Marguerite loved John too much to do that to him now. Before they were in love she would have left, but now there were too many emotions between them and she was staying with him forever.

Morgan made her way through the streets of London. She had left the orphanage gates and snuck into an alley where she got ready to do some weaseling. She was going to pickpocket some people so she could buy a new dress and postage to send a letter to George Challenger.

She stood in the shadows, no one even noticing her. The South Side of London represented the noveau riche, those who had made their fortunes in spices and trade with India. It was the perfect place to pickpocket. She had heard about it from the boys at the orphanage. They would sit and tell stories to the girls to scare them, but Morgan always knew that they were all talk.

Quietly she sneaked out of the alley, going unnoticed by the passersby. A few men were talking on the sidewalk and Morgan saw her chance. They were dressed very richly and were having a heated discussion over whether the London Opera was better than the Paris Opera. Morgan saw her chance. She walked over calmly and made it look like she was just walking by when she "tripped" and bumped into one of the men. IN his distraction, he didn't even notice that she had taken his wallet out of his pocket. She quickly apologized and walked away.

Morgan walked three blocks before she ducked into another alley to count her money. The man's wallet was bursting with bills and she smiled at her fortune. Now she needed to find a way to get a dress. She knew none of the dressmakers would willingly sell her a dress, so she had to be sneaky. Then an idea dawned on her.

She walked to the nearest dress shop and went in. A woman came over to her, looking down her nose at Morgan. "What can I do for you?"

"I am the daughter of Lord John Roxton and he sent me here to get a new dress. The wheel of a car tore my other dress and he gave me money to get a new one.

"Of course my child," the woman said as she ushered Morgan into a fitting room. She showed her the prettiest dresses in stock, pretty enough for a girl of Quality.

"My father only gave me some money."

"How much, my child?"

Morgan looked in the pocketbook, "Ummm…about ten pounds."

"Well, we have a very lovely dress here for five pounds." The dress was a pale blue that matched Morgan's eyes.

"I'll take that and then I'll need some chemises and pants. My father is taking me on an expedition with him." The woman shuffled to get together the dress and five shirts and three pairs of pants.

"Will that be all Miss Roxton?"

"Yes. I'll take it with me. My father is down the road speaking with some men about the expedition." The clothes were wrapped and boxed and altogether Morgan left with two pounds to her name. She took the boxes and ducked into an alley to change quickly. The dress suited her well. It fit just fine, and made her look taller than she was. She pulled her hair back and tied it up. She was as tall as a 15-year-old girl and just as pretty. She could pull off the long dress.

Morgan stepped out of the alley in her new finery. She looked gorgeous, as was demonstrated by the number of men who stared slack jawed at her. She was a sight. Men bowed their heads as she passed and she nodded back at them. Morgan fit right in with polite society.

She made her way to the post office to send a telegram to George Challenger. She had to come up with a fake name while she was walking. Maria Rose…Martha Rhea….Margaret Percey…it was perfect. She would be Margaret Percey, the daughter of a deceased British squire. She would have been raised on a northern English plantation, the daughter of a wealthy Squire who had made his fortune sharecropping with his people. His untimely death happened only a few months ago when a group of Irishmen stormed their home. She would have been in London for her season when it happened. The story was perfect and believable.

She sent the telegram and left. She had nowhere to go now except to spend her money and stay in a hotel. She could walk to the Challenger residence tomorrow. She walked to the hotel and paid the man for one night's rent and went up to her room. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.


	12. Attitudes and Changes

**Chapter Twelve**

Challenger received Miss Percey's telegram later that day. He opened it up and read:

"Professor Challenger:

My name is Margaret Percey; I am the daughter of the late Squire Percey. I would like to join your expedition as I specialize in ancient linguistics. I can supply my own weapon and gear for the expedition, which would cut down on your overall costs. I am a woman of twenty, and though I may seem very young I have traveled all over the world, into places such as Nepal and Tibet. I would be grateful if you accepted me into your team. If you accept, please send reply to the address this came from.

Margaret Percey"

Challenger set the letter down. He had never heard of Squire Percey, but then again, he hadn't been very involved in society since his return from the Lost World. He decided he would accept Miss Percey's offer and immediately sent out a letter to the address given to him.

Morgan had now completed the simpler of her tasks and now she had to turn herself into a twenty-year-old heiress. And if Lord and Lady Roxton were going to be on this expedition she had to make herself unrecognizable to everyone who had ever met her as the dark haired twelve year old girl.

Morgan saw a salon across from the hotel and got an idea. Her hair color could be changed rather easily to a red brown instead of dark brown. She walked across the street with her head held high. Her role as Margaret had already begun. She went into the salon and told the women what she wanted, and two hours later she was a dark auburn beauty, her raven locks gone. Her long tresses were gone and replaced by a shorter hairdo that was more the style of the era's young women.

"So, why are you trying to look so different?" Madame Maxime asked Morgan as she cut her hair.

Morgan didn't know what to tell the woman, she hadn't gotten that far into her story. "Well…since my father died I have been looking for a husband to help me manage his estate since I am the only one living there. And to be honest, I don't feel any man of twenty could be of much benefit to me. The other night I met the most gorgeous Captain in Her Majesties Royal Navy and now I'm determined to catch him."

Madame Maxime laughed. "That is a good reason, but your hair was much prettier in it's natural color."

"I look so much like my little sister that we are often mistaken for each other. I want to make sure that he recognizes me."

"I see. Well you hair is cut in the new style and I think that this dark auburn will suit you well. You are a very pretty woman. You remind me of Lady Roxton, actually. She was here last week getting her hair trimmed."

"Lady Roxton is an acquaintance of mine. Lord Roxton was good friends with my father."

"It's funny, your mother never came to this salon."

"Mother was never one for getting dolled up. She was very conservative with her make up and clothes."

"Oh." Maxime was hardly convinced that the girl was telling the truth. But it wasn't her place to mettle in anyone else's business. She finished Morgan's haircut with only a few more words on the weather.

"Maxime, do you think you could show me how to do my makeup so as I look older?"

"Of course my dear." She bought out a large box and several trays of make up and proceeded to show Morgan how to make her face look older with different colors of makeup. When they were finished Morgan asked for enough makeup for at least six months time.

The ladies were well paid for their work, and Morgan emerged from the salon a woman of twenty. Today as she walked past the men, they whistled after her for she rivaled every woman on the streets in beauty. No upper class woman, not even the Queen herself could rival Miss Margaret Percey's looks. Morgan wanted it that way too. If she was going to play the role of a young woman in her prime she had to look the part. She laughed inside, still a girl of twelve at heart.

John Roxton was not about to waiver in his decision, despite his wife's silence. Marguerite hadn't spoken to John all day, and dinner that evening was almost unbearable. Throughout their entire married life, she had never been so upset as to not speak to him. Little John and Jude sat at either side of their parents not speaking at all, which was very unlike them. Usually at dinner they laughed and talked with both of their parents, but tonight they knew that mummy and daddy were not happy with each other.

Jude looked up from his plate at his mother. "Mummy?"

"Yes, Jude?" Marguerite said warmly to her little son. Even if she was mad at John, she had no reason to be upset and cold to her boys.

"If I can make things better, I want to go to the Plateau with you and daddy. You've told us so many wonderful stories about Aunt Veronica and Uncle Ned and all the things you did there, I just want to see if it's real."

"It's very real, Jude. Mummy just doesn't want you to get hurt there."

"But I'm a man like daddy, I won't get hurt."

"You may be a boy, Jude. But you aren't yet a man," John interjected. Jude frowned. "You'll be a man soon enough."

"I want to go too, Father," Little John spoke. He was the quieter of the two boys, never imposing on anyone.

"I'm sure you do, John," Marguerite said. "But it isn't safe."

"Father can take care of us, Mama. He took care of you!" Jude said, raising his voice.

"Your mother was a very independent woman. We both looked out for each other."

"So do the same thing! Don't fight. We want to go to the Plateau with you, Father." Marguerite didn't have anything left to say, she would go to the Plateau now with no arguments.

"Alright then. We'll go to the Plateau on Challenger's expedition," she said coolly. Roxton looked her in the eyes to see if she was serious, and she was.

"Then it's settled. I'll wire Challenger tonight." John nodded and finished his dinner. He knew that with the boys' wishes to go, he would not receive another word against going to the Plateau, but he would receive the look. Whenever Marguerite was disappointed with him or hurt, he could see in her eyes walls being put up. She was an expert at protecting her emotions and not showing her true feelings.

The butler came and took dinner away after everyone had finished and Marguerite took her sons upstairs to put them to bed. "Mummy, the Plateau will be so exciting!" Jude shouted, miming a gun shooting dinosaurs. "Daddy will help me kill a big raptor."

"I'm sure he will, Jude. Come on, now. It's not playtime. Get into your pajamas."

"Yes, mummy," Jude said obediently and put his pajamas on. Little John was already changed and lying in his bed by the time Jude had put his clothes on. He had talked of shooting dinosaurs and swinging through the trees like 'Johnny Weismule.' Marguerite laughed at his mispronunciation as she tucked him in.

"Okay my little Prince, time to close your eyes." She kissed his forehead tenderly. "I love you."

"Love you too, mummy." He closed his little blue eyes.

By the time Marguerite went to Little John's bed, he was fast asleep. She kissed his cheek and tucked the covers in around him. Ever so gently, she traced the soft babyness of his face down to his chin. A smile graced her face as she stood to leave. Turning, she saw John's figure standing in the door.

Marguerite pressed her lips together and walked through the doorway past him. John reached out and grabbed her arm gently. "Marguerite…"

"We have nothing to talk about, John."

"Oh, but we do. I can't stand it when you're upset with me."

"Well, I think it's a little late for that." The spite in her words shocked him. Marguerite made haste to her room and left the door ajar as she changed into her nightgown. Her face was flushed when John came in the room.

"Marguerite, are you alright?" She fainted dead away.


	13. Meetings

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Lost World characters. I only own the ones of my own imagination.

Chapter 13

Two weeks passed from the day Morgan had her makeover, and she was truly in full bloom. Gentlemen were asking her out for drinks and dinner, though she pleasantly declined their offers. She had received a telegram from Professor Challenger accepting her as a part of the expedition, and telling her of the meeting two days before their departure. With the money she had left, she purchased her guns, extra ammunitions and the other gear she'd need for a jungle trek.

The night of the meeting, Morgan found herself extremely nervous. She knew that the Roxtons would be present, and doubted her abilities to deceive the other expedition members. She checked her visage in the mirror. She definitely looked like a woman of twenty, and she knew she could act like a woman of twenty. But something was eating at her, what if Lady Roxton could see through her disguise?

Morgan took a cab to the meeting at the London Zoological Society that evening. Her gloved hands trembled as they held her clasp purse on her lap in the meeting hall. The Roxtons, as well as Challenger, had not arrived, which gave Morgan some time to calm herself down. Near her sat a young man named Jeremy Lions, a botanist, aged 23. Morgan looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was very attractive for someone so much older than herself. Suddenly his eyes met her, and Morgan forced her eyes back into her lap quickly. "That was close," she thought, "he almost caught me staring at him."

Jeremy could not believe the beauty sitting next to him had even looked at him. What could she have possibly been looking at? Perhaps his rather oversized spectacles? They had been his Great Uncle's glasses. His mother had tried to buy him new glasses for Christmas, but he refused the present. If botany was a good enough subject for him, so were Arthur Summerlee's glasses. Yes, young Jeremy Lions was the scientific protégé of Arthur Summerlee. The Zoological Society had decided to send him in the place of an older botanist who couldn't make the trip. Jeremy had been ecstatic when he received the news from George Challenger. It had been his dream as a child to follow in Summerlee's footsteps and now here he was getting ready to go on the same expedition his Great Uncle had made almost twenty years before.

George Challenger entered the hall with a flourish of reporters behind him. As he declined to comment to various news entourages, the questions and flash bulbs died down. Challenger made his way to the podium at the front of the room and faced the members of his present audience. He looked around and saw Jeremy Lions, Summerlee's nephew and a young woman seated near him. "That must be Miss Percey," he told himself. There were a few other people in the room, including Ned's brother Jack Malone and his wife Nancy, who were accompanying the expedition to meet Ned and Veronica. Also joining the expedition was Brighton Kensington, the son of Lord Kensington. Challenger had permitted the young man because he was in the same position as Roxton had been twenty years ago; he was the second born son of Lord Kensington. Brighton was a handsome young man, older than Jeremy Lions by five years. Challenger looked at the two young men in the group and the lovely Miss Percey. He knew that there would competition for the young lady's attention.

Not long after Challenger entered, the Roxton family arrived. Marguerite ushered little Jude in and sat down with him in her lap. John, beaming at his triumph in getting Marguerite to come along, sat down beside her. After she had fainted a few weeks ago, he had been particularly attentive to her health. It had only turned out to be a touch of the flu and nerves, luckily.

Challenger, seeing that the members of his expedition were all present, began his speech. "I'm so glad you all could join me on this return expedition. I'm glad to see Jack Malone and his family here, as well as Roxton family. And we have Miss Margaret Percey, daughter of the late Squire Percey, as well as Sir Brighton Kensington. And all of you will remember Arthur Summerlee. We have his great nephew Jeremy Lions with us as a botanist."

Challenger cleared his throat and continued, "I hope you are all prepared for our trek. Most of you know what kind of terrain we will be facing, as well as the dangers. From communications with Veronica and Ned Malone, we find the Plateau has become much safer since our last trip. I'm going to put John and Marguerite Roxton in charge of weapons since they have invaluable skills with rifles and pistols. Miss Percey will be helping us with translations, and has provided her own equipment and firearms." Marguerite turned to look at Miss Percey. Morgan saw her and averted her gaze away from Marguerite and Roxton. Sir Brighton will be providing us with the dirigible we will be using to get to the Lost World, and Jeremy will be bringing back plant samples for the Zoological Society. I really don't have much more to say, other than I'm glad you all decided to come, and I hope this trip is shorter than the previous trip. Thank you."

He stepped down from the podium and the new group of explorers gathered together in the center of the room. Morgan did her best to stay away from the Roxton's but couldn't avoid shaking hands with both Marguerite and John. John smiled at her, not seeing any resemblance between Miss Percey and the twelve-year-old orphan he had been so willing to help. Marguerite however couldn't help but look at the young lady. She seemed so familiar…then Morgan turned away to meet Sir Brighton.

"Something is not right about that girl," Marguerite said to herself.


	14. Snubbed

ONE WEEK LATER 

The trek through the jungle from the landing site had been rough. Morgan, thoroughly exhausted, did her best not to lag behind the other adventurers. Every step she took felt as though the foliage on the ground would pull her down and engulf her weary body. Even the trees were out to get her, pulling tendrils of her curly red hair out of her bun. No, the Plateau was not what she had bargained for.

John did his best to keep an eye out for all the expedition members. Mr. Lions appeared to be doing rather well, though his constant stopping proved rather annoying. Brighton was also fine, every now and then hacking overgrown bushes back from the trail with his machete. Challenger's strides were like those of a young man rather than one past his prime. John stifled a laugh at his friend; George Challenger was definitely a man of character. The Roxton boys were also keeping up. Thy had been so excited to begin the walk through the jungle that Marguerite tied them both to her with a long string: long enough so they wouldn't be underfoot, but short enough that they couldn't run ahead. This amused John very much. During their first trip the only thing Marguerite had held that close was her precious gems. Now she had completely changed, though she never failed to surprise him.

The only expedition member John was concerned about was Miss Percey. He knew absolutely nothing about her, nor had he ever heard of her father, Squire Percey. John glanced over his shoulder at the young woman bringing up the rear. She was odd to him: completely familiar yet he had never met her before. As he watched, she fell. "Bloody Hell!" He heard of the jungle sounds. John went to where she had fallen and helped her up.

"Hey!" He called to the front of the line. "Let's take a five minute break. Seems the jungle is giving Miss Percey a tough time."

The line stopped moving and everyone sat down. "Thank you, Lord Roxton," Morgan said as she pulled her arm out of his grasp. If she allowed him to get any closer her cover might be blown. Morgan sat down away from the rest of the group and pulled out a small mirror from her pack. Some of her foundation had been sweated off, but the rest of her makeup was still intact, preserving her twenty-year-old visage. Morgan returned the mirror to her pack and took a long drink out of her canteen. The jungle was hotter than anything she had ever experienced.

Ahead of her, the explorers were taking of the Treehouse and its' inhabitants. Morgan listened closely to the stories, savoring them as if they were missing pieces of her own past. "Excuse me," she said from her seat.

"Yes, my dear?" Challenger said, being very fatherly.

"How long will it be before we reach this Treehouse of yours?"

"We should be there before nightfall," Challenger replied.

"Thank you," she said, retreating back into her own lonely silence.

"Miss Percey," Marguerite said, tugging the cord that Jude was attached too. He was trying to play with an odd looking plant. "You can sit and talk with us. We don't bite."

"I know, Lady Roxton. I just prefer a little solitude every now and then. Besides, I'm used to being alone. It's not a new thing for me."

Marguerite was baffled. Had the young lady snubbed the entire group? The woman was a puzzle to Marguerite, which surprised her. She herself had had a very colorful past, being Parsifal during World War Two and an international spy as well. She had seen many things in her life. Miss Percey was a different story. Marguerite thought she had to be up to something. The question was, what did she have in mind?


	15. Memorial

The group reached the Treehouse that evening, and was greeted by a beaming Ned and Veronica as well as two young children, seemingly attached to their parent's legs. Marguerite and Roxton hugged their old friends.

"I'm so glad you came back," Veronica said to Marguerite.

"I almost didn't, to be honest, but the boys changed my mind." Marguerite moved and put her sons in front of her. "This is John Jr. and Jude."

"They're adorable, Marguerite. These two kiddies are Thomas and Valerie. Their baby sister is asleep upstairs."

"You have beautiful children, Veronica. The treehouse still looks the same."

"We've added onto it since we've had the children. You and Roxton still have your old room here. We always hoped you'd come back home."

"It really does feel like I'm home." Marguerite smiled.

"The last time you were here, Morgan was toddling around." Veronica eyed her friend. She didn't know how Marguerite would react to the mention of her lost child.

"Yes, she was precious."

"You know, Ned and I, once we heard Morgan had died, we built a little memorial for her."

"Can I see it?"

"Sure. I'll take you later when the children go to bed. We have so much to talk about. I've missed having you here. I can't sew half as well as you can." Marguerite smiled at Veronica's comment. She had always done all the mending for the explorers.

Challenger interrupted Marguerite's memories. "I'd like you both to meet the rest of our expedition. This is Brighton Kensington, then we have Summerlee's nephew, Jeremy Lions. And finally there's Miss Margaret Percey." Everyone nodded hello. "I hope you have enough room to accommodate us," he added.

"Well," Ned said, "Jeremy can sleep in Summerlee's old room. My brother and his wife can have Roxton's old room. Marguerite and Roxton have their own room. The kids can all sleep in the nursery. Now we're out of rooms."

"It's alright," Morgan said, "I don't mind pitching a tent outside."

"I'll sleep outside too," Brighton added. "Provide some company for Miss Percey."

"Nonsense, we have two hammocks out here you can use for beds. It's safer in the Treehouse."

"Okay," Veronica started. "With that settled, tonight, we'll have a celebration. Our friends have returned home." The group smiled. Morgan smiled too, happy for the friends that were reuniting, sad that she wasn't close to any of them.

Soon the group dispersed, the men cleaning weapons and the children playing in the nursery. "Marguerite, let me show you the memorial now." Veronica said.

"Aright." The two women started down the elevator.

Morgan had gone outside to examine the Treehouse. It fascinated her that a house could really be built in the trees. Marguerite and Veronica left the elevator, chatting about motherhood, not even noticing Morgan. She watched them leave and head down a path away from the treehouse.

"I wish I had a friend here," she said to herself softly. "Fool of me to think life here would be any different than the orphanage."

Farther down the path, Veronica led Marguerite to the stone memorial. Once Ned and Veronica had heard the unfortunate news of the death of the Treehouse's first child, they went straight to work. Ned had stacked stones with Veronica's help and then Veronica had added a beautiful drawing of the little girl. Marguerite saw the picture and inhaled sharply; every detail was perfect. Morgan's chubby baby cheeks and dimples. Silvery eyes just like her mother and Roxton's trademark grin. No, not a nuance had been forgotten. "Veronica, this is beautiful."

"We loved her too, Marguerite. She was everybody's little girl. It's hard for me to come here. That picture I painted…I've never painted like that before , and I haven't since."

Marguerite smiled a little, then ran her hand over the words that had been carved into the stone.

_**Morgan Elizabeth Roxton: **_

_**Born 1925, Died 1927 **_

_**An Angel On Earth, Called Home Too Soon**_

A tear ran down Marguerite's cheek. "Thank you," she said to her friend. "I tried to forget for so long, but you never really forgot. I'll always miss her. She would be a teenager next week. Thirteen years old.

Veronica put a comforting arm around her friend. "Come on, let's go back to the Treehouse. Dinner should be ready soon and you have met Maggie yet."\

"Maggie?"

"Marguerite Abigail Malone."

"You named her after me?"

"Of course, you are my best friend."

Marguerite smiled. She had never been anyone's best friend. "Alright, let's get going before I have an emotional break down right here in the middle of the jungle." They walked back home arm in arm.


	16. Explode

**Two Weeks Later**

The explorers were now comfortably settled into the Treehouse. Every day the group would go out to collect plant samples and explore caves, searching for ancient artifacts at Morgan's discretion. So far, they had not had the chance to use her superior linguistic skills, as they had found nothing new. But the rest of the explorers didn't really care too much about the fact that they hadn't found anything. They were enjoying each other's company too much.

Marguerite and Veronica's friendship had been renewed and now the two women were closer than ever. While the men were gone, they talked for hours, took the children swimming and played with little Maggie. Marguerite loved holding the precious four month old, smiling and cooing at her. It reminded her of the time when her children were babies.

Morgan still kept her distance from the other explorers, even though she longed to join in their conversations and musings. Watching the others all develop and relationship while she remained guarded was the hardest thing she had ever done. But Morgan knew that she had to keep her distance from Marguerite especially. Lord Roxton had been easy too fool, as had Professor Challenger. Men hardly picked up on subtle changes anyways, unless they were in love, and she knew for certain that neither of those two men was in love with her. No, Lady Roxton was a different story than her husband. There was something about her that Morgan thought odd. She had an aura much like Morgan's own, and that scared her.

When Morgan first saw Marguerite's aura, she thought she had dirt in her eyes, or was seeing a mirage. She had nearly stumbled into a crevice that day, catching herself just before plummeting a hundred feet to a painful death. It looked as though an ocean of indigo was floating around Marguerite, emanating from her person as though it was a part of her normally visible. Morgan was shocked. She had seen her own aura once. It was the same indigo color, but it had a brown aura around it, dampening the indigo, almost oppressing it. But that had been days ago and Morgan wasn't looking for any more auras.

Today, Marguerite and Veronica sat across the room from Morgan with the children playing a game of jacks at their feet. Maggie was taking a nap up in the nursery. Morgan, careful to avoid their obvious glances at her, was mending one of her shirts that had gotten a tear in it. She listened to the women talk.

"Marguerite," Veronica whispered in a voice only Marguerite could hear. She moved closer. "She's a bit odd, isn't she?"

"I think she's just a sad young woman afraid to get too attached to anyone for fear she might lose them like she lost her father. He was the only family she had."

"Maybe, but there's something about her, I just can't put my finger on it. Anyways, finish your story about that orphan girl." Morgan looked up when she heard Veronica mention orphans.

"Oh yes. Well, John met her and wanted to take her out on the town for a day. So we pick the poor girl up, and she really was quite lovely, and she had been beaten the previous day. She had welts that were bleeding profusely. We took her to Challenger, and he patched her and we took her back to the Estate. When I was putting her to bed, she told me the most curious thing." Marguerite paused, thinking back to what the girl had said. "I asked her how many languages she had been taught at the orphanage school and she told me 'A better question would be how many languages can I understand. I don't usually get to speak to the people I hear talking, but I can understand French, Spanish, Italian, German, and Latin.'"

Veronica was surprised. "They teach all that stuff at orphanages?"

"I learned French where I stayed, but it wasn't a true orphanage. It reminded me of my own abilities. It was rather scary."

"Marguerite, what if that little girl, Morgan, was our Morgan?"

"Don't be silly Veronica. A child who fell off a boat in the middle of the sea and who couldn't swim can't have been expected to survive."

"No, I guess you're right. It's still strange though."

"You're telling me." Marguerite smiled and let out a little laugh, which made Veronica smile as well.

Morgan was furious, not only had this woman broken her heart, but now she was laughing at her. She stood up quickly, and Marguerite and Veronica looked at her. "FIRST, you dash my hopes and now you laugh at me! How dare you!"

"Miss Percey, what on earth are you talking about?" Marguerite asked.

"You, Lady Roxton." Morgan reached up and smudged the make up on her face. "Look me in the face now…remember? I told you my secret, which I had never told anyone and now you're laughing. I'm Morgan the orphan. Morgan Nobody." Morgan ran to the elevator and grabbed her gun belt. Before the surprised women could reach her she was down the elevator and running deep into the jungle, far away from the Treehouse. As she ran, her aura turned black.

NOTE TO READERS: Indigo auric light is connected with psychic abilities. You may enjoy taking an interest in the paranormal or Extra Sensory Perception. Your attention wants to turn inwards. Perhaps you could understand yourself better if you wrote down your dreams and interpreted what they are trying to tell you. This is a time of contemplation and renewed self-awareness. A time to listen and receive guidance from the inner self. Black is the absence of light. It can act as a protective shield around the aura if you're feeling over sensitive.


	17. Discoveries

Morgan ran for what seemed like hours, looking over her shoulder as miles and miles of dense jungle foliage covered the Treehouse. She ran blindly, not noticing where she was going or how to get back. All Morgan could think about was what Lady Roxton had said to her, and how she herself had shot her mouth off, blowing her cover. In her haste to get down the elevator, Morgan left her canteen and now she would have to stop along streams to get water.

She slowed down to a walk, knowing that the much older explorers wouldn't be running after her. There was a stream nearby, tricking slowly down a hill. Morgan knelt down by the stream and splashed some water on her face. "This is awful. I'm so stupid!" She stood back up after taking a drink from the stream and prayed that the water wasn't contaminated. Now she just had to find a place to sleep for the night. Lord Roxton had lectured long enough for her to know that she shouldn't be walking in the jungle at night.

Nearby, Morgan saw a bed of leaves that had been flattened down. She walked over to the area and looked around. It looked like somewhere she could sleep. Pulling down a few low palm-like leaves, Morgan made a covered shelter for the night.

Back at the Treehouse 

The rest of the group arrived back an hour after Morgan left. Marguerite stood when she saw John come in with the others. "John," she said from across the room.

He walked over to her, and planted a kiss firmly on her lips. When he pulled back he saw she wasn't smiling. "What's the matter?"

"How is it that a 12 year old orphan can go on a trip to the jungle?"

"What are you talking about Marguerite?"

"Miss Percey isn't who she said she was. She's Morgan, the orphan."

"Have you gone mad?"

"No," Veronica said standing up next to them. "I heard it to. She confessed everything and accused us of laughing at her."

"Oh boy." He put his hand on his forehead and sat down. "How did this happen?"

"I was going to ask you the same thing…or maybe we should ask Challenger since he allowed her to come."

"What did I do?" Challenger asked, joining them.

"Miss Percey is the orphan that you bandaged up that night we were at your house."

"Nonsense, Marguerite. Miss Percey is a woman of twenty."

"No, she's not. She told us so herself," Marguerite said pointedly. "And now we've got a twelve year old girl running through the jungle alone and it's getting dark. It's been my fault she's run away before and this time there's a lot more danger involved. We have to find her."

John was surprised at his wife's concern for the girl. The previous time Morgan had run off, she hadn't seemed to care. "Then we'll go now. Marguerite and Veronica can stay here with the children and the rest of us will go look for her. We have to find her soon, tonight if possible. I can't let anything happen to her." John slung his rifle over his shoulder and went to the elevator. The rest of the men followed him.

Marguerite watched them leave. "Marguerite, why is John so concerned for her?"

"He wants to adopt her. He tried to talk to me about it, but I said he was just trying to replace Morgan."

"He'd never do that, and you know that."

"I know, but I didn't think I had room for anyone else…room to lose anyone else. I know now that I was wrong."


	18. Speculative Reasons

**Four Days Later**

Morgan had slowed down so much due to her exhausted state that the explorers trying to track her down had finally caught up to her. Her pace had become varied, sometimes painfully slow, while other times she ran as hard as she could. Harsh jungle branches had torn into her flesh, leaving a light trail of blood behind. Any predator in the jungle could easily track her, and she had probably attracted many herself.

Challenger, Roxton, and Ned stopped for a moment. "The girl's pace is erratic. I'm sure she's passed out somewhere by now. She hasn't stopped for food or water at all," Challenger said matter of factly.

"All the more reason for us to catch up with her now. What if she falls into the path of a raptor or a T-Rex? IF she can't make a rational decision she could be dead, and I won't have her death on my hands. After all, it' s my fault she's here," Roxton said before getting up and starting down the trail again.

"Challenger," Ned started once Roxton was far enough ahead of them. "Why is Roxton so upset? He didn't know that Miss Percey was that twelve year old orphan girl, and it isn't his fault she's here."

"I think that John still feels guilty about what happened to her in London. They brought the girl to me after discovering she had been beaten by her Headmistress. In all my life, I have never seen a child live through such abuse. The cuts were terrible, some were infected and full of puss. It was a sorry sight."

"Well she made the change well if she had everyone fooled into thinking she was a high class lady. Hell, she even fooled Marguerite, and we know how hard that is to do."

"Yes, she did do that. The first time I saw Morgan I thought I was seeing a ghost. When she isn't done up with her hair dyed red, she looks exactly like a young version of Marguerite."

"Is it possible that this Morgan is our Morgan?"

"She could very well be Morgan Roxton, but I'll have to run some tests to verify her paternity."

"I'm just blown away that it could be her…wait! Didn't little Morgan have a birthmark like Marguerite's?"

"Why yes, I believe she had one, but I can't remember exactly where. I'm sure Marguerite will know."

"If she's even open to the idea," Malone said, trailing off when he heard Roxton yell from up ahead. "He must have found her, let's go." He trotted up the trail with Challenger behind him.

When Roxton saw Morgan's crumpled body his heart lurched. He approached her slowly, and felt as if the world around him was moving in slow motion with him. Kneeling down beside her, he took her pulse; Her heart was beating too fast for his liking. "Challenger!" he yelled, picking her up gently. George walked up. "Her pulse is racing."

Challenger felt the girl's forehead. "She's burning with fever. We need to get her back to the Treehouse and get her fever down." John nodded and let the others lead the way back home.

"Oh Morgan," John thought to himself, "if anything happens to you…if I lost you again I don't think I could last." He pressed on, praying for the safety and return of his long lost daughter.


	19. Prayers

From four days away they reached the Treehouse in a record two days. John's pace had become more relentless as Morgan slipped into unconsciousness, but finally the Treehouse came into sight. His other two companions breathed a sigh of relief, they could finally get a little bit of rest after Morgan was tended to.

Once inside, Marguerite led John to their room to put Morgan down. Challenger and Jeremy immediately began the process of cleaning her wounds and bandaging her. John, his hands intertwined with Marguerite's, watched apprehensively. "John," Marguerite whispered. "She'll be fine. You should go get some rest."

"I'm not tired, not at all," he said briskly. "I'll just be here making sure she's alright."

"Well, your sons want to see you. You've been gone for six days and they miss their father." She searched his face for signs of acknowledgement.

He looked down and nodded. "Stay here, I'll be right back." He kissed her tenderly before heading off to the nursery.

Marguerite watched him go, then t turned back to the scene in front of her. Challenger and Jeremy had the girl bandaged and were now drawing blood and checking her vitals. She walked up to the other side of the bed and looked down at Morgan. Sleeping, she looked completely bare to the world, and very much like the child she truly was. Marguerite found it odd that Morgan had been able to fool her into believing that she was the worldly Margaret Percey. After all, Marguerite was a world-class triple agent, the infamous Parsifal. Not even the best German spies had been able to figure her out and trick her, so how had a 12-year-old managed to do so?

Marguerite sat down on the edge of the bed after the two men had left. She reached up and pushed an auburn curl out of Morgan's sweaty face. "Your hair was prettier when it was brown, but red suits you too. It suited me for a long time, but that was long before you were born." Marguerite took a deep breath and gently lifted Morgan's small frame up. Since she was in her undergarments, it was easier to find what she was looking for. On Morgan's left shoulder, close to her underarm was her birthmark, the same birthmark Marguerite had, the same Little Morgan had been born with. A tear fell down Marguerite's cheek. "I knew it when I first saw you, but I didn't want to believe it. Your father knew too, and because of me you're lying here in pain. I should have told you the day we walked into that orphanage, I shouldn't have said that I didn't want you, but what if I had been wrong? I would have gotten everyone's hopes up only to have them dashed. I didn't want to do that to my family, and I didn't want to do that to you." Marguerite closed her own eyes, tears flowing freely now. "Oh my angel, how am I going to tell you that I let you run away when I knew you were mine?" Marguerite ran a finger along Morgan's warm cheek.

John watched his wife from the doorway, a smile gracing his handsome face. She knew now that this Morgan was their lost daughter. He did his best not to let any tears escape, but knowing for sure that Morgan wasn't lost was such a relief to him. Still, questions plagued him. How could she survive being adrift at sea? Had she really fallen off the boat? If not, what really happened that evening? The list of questions seemed endless, but they would have to wait until a later time.

He walked up behind Marguerite and put his hands on her shoulders. Marguerite looked down. "She's ours."

"I know, I saw you look at her birthmark."

"I didn't believe that she could be our little girl. You don't come back from being lost in the middle of the ocean, it just isn't possible." She shook her head in disbelief, many of the same questions running through her mind.

"We all thought she was gone for good." His strong hands squeezed her shoulders ever so gently. "Do you know how happy she will be to have finally found her family?"

"What if she hates us…what if she hates me?"

"She doesn't know us, Marguerite, but once she does she won't be able to help but love all of us, especially you. You both have a special tie with one another, being mother and daughter."

Marguerite nodded her agreement, though it was half-hearted. Her mind was running through different scenarios, though none were what John had described. They were all full of yelling and hateful words from her precious daughter. _She does have a right to hate me though…I said that I didn't want her, and she heard it. _It was almost as if John could sense what was running through her mind. He laid his hand gently on her shoulder to comfort her. Marguerite stood and turned around. The only thing now that would bring her comfort would be his strong arms. She wished he could squeeze her until she was so small she'd disappear, disappear in his strength, perhaps even take some of it to make herself stronger. It was the first time she'd ever felt weak in her entire life, completely powerless in the future of her little girl. The only one she could turn to now was God, and heaven knows she hadn't done that for many years.

She closed her eyes and prayed. _Oh God, I know that you haven't heard from me since I was a child, but I need your help now. Please wake my little girl up and let her live a life with her family. She was taken from us so long ago…that's when I lost faith in you. I know I was wrong in doing that, but I'm only human and she was my first child. I thought you were punishing me for my past, but now I know that you were just trying to make me stronger. I'm asking you now, bring her home. Please…_and with that she began to weep.


	20. Letter to Readers Update Status

Hello everyone,

Thanks so much for reading this story so far. I am sorry that I haven't been updating it like I should. Truth of the matter is, I can't decide what I want to happen when Morgan wakes up. Yes, Roxton and Marguerite will tell her that she's their daughter, but I can't decide what her reaction should be. After all, Marguerite did make fun of her, but that was only out of fear on Marguerite's part.

So I'm going to put it to you, the readers. Please review or email me with your votes. My email is you like Morgan's reaction to be:

Happy – hugs hugs

Morgan rejects them

She doesn't wake up for awhile

Another reaction that you've come up with and will get due credit for if I like it.

Please review or send emails to the address above so I can continue writing this story. I still watch the Lost World on DVD all the time, but I am having trouble with what should happen next.

Thanks for reading!

Theatrehopeful11


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